


Kisses for Christmas

by Artemisausten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, First Christmas, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Holidays, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Light Angst, Neck Kissing, Romance, Romantic Fluff, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisausten/pseuds/Artemisausten
Summary: Literally just some one shots for ACOTR to get myself in the holiday spirit, themed around kissing at Christmas. Because I'm bored with Hallmark movies and 2020 has been one of the crappiest years on record. Rated M because, like, I hint at stuff but it's not explicit?Chapter 1, Good morning kiss with Mor/Nesta--------------“Or,” Nesta says gently, “we could stay in bed. Just the two of us.”There’s always a moment when Mor feels her heart skip a beat, when she feels some kind of hope and longing deep in her chest that it really was just the two of them, that in this strange world they live in they could be like this forever. “Well,” Mor considers slowly, “it is a really cold day.”And it’s warm, Mor thinks, so perfectly warm in this bed.“I guess there’s no rush to go anywhere.”
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Morrigan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Kisses for Christmas

It’s a cold, bitter winter morning as Nesta burrows further under the blanket, taking a long breath in as she blearily opens one eye to the blinding sunlight pouring in from the window. She can see the reflection of it off the snow and ice from here, covered with the thicker comforter and surrounded by soft blue sheets and pillows, and she knows that she’ll do anything—absolutely _anything_ —to avoid having to leave the house today.

She doesn’t want to have to walk through the snow, feet sinking into the cold wet almost up to her knees as she forces her way through some overly decorated street that stinks of pine and tree sap. She doesn’t want to hear any strangers wishing her a happy solstice as though they knew her, as though she was part of this world and this life and she had readily accepted her place in it. She doesn’t want to see her sisters and their mates clinking glasses around a fireplace and laughing and making small talk, as if everything were normal.

Everything, Nesta thinks, is _not_ normal.

An arm curls around her stomach and pulls her backward against the body sharing her bed, the sound of a contented sigh in her ear as someone nuzzles it, and Nesta feels her eyes close and a small smile that she can’t help tug at her lips. Besides, she thinks, she’s perfectly happy here, in this bed.

If she has to live forever, she thinks, it might as well be in this bed, with Morrigan. “Good morning.”

Mor’s voice is soft from sleep, her lips and mouth dry, but it doesn’t stop her from curling Nesta’s body against hers and nuzzling her face against Nesta’s neck. Even in her half-awake state, it doesn’t escape Mor’s notice that Nesta lets her do it, that she curls into Mor as much as Mor pulls her back and almost seems to purr at Mor’s lips on her neck. Mor’s lips are soft as she trails tiny kisses down her her, mouth ghosting over skin that’s chilled from the crisp morning air and leaving warm, wet trails whenever she touches. Nesta almost shivers at the contact, at the intimacy of it, feeling a rush of heat wash over her.

No, Nesta thinks, she doesn’t ever want to get out of this bed if she can help it. She wants to live in this moment, this one perfect moment, forever.

“Mmmmm…” Nesta can’t stop the sound as Mor’s mouth settles on her collarbone, smiling against Nesta’s skin as Mor’s arms close around her body. “Is it?” Her voice is low, almost foreign to her as she asks.

She doesn’t want it to be morning. She wants it to still be night, to still be only them. She doesn’t want the day.

“It’s Solstice,” Mor says against Nesta’s collarbone. “It’s another beautiful Solstice in Velaris.”

Nesta doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t say that she couldn’t give a shit about the solstice, that she doesn’t want to be Velaris and can’t bring herself to appreciate the beauty of it, and she doesn’t want to be here at all.

But she does want to be _here_ , she thinks. She reaches down and wraps a hand over one of Mor’s arms, enjoying the light squeeze that she receives in response before she pulls Mor’s hands upwards over her bare skin. She wants to feel Mor’s hands on her again, to drown herself in Mor’s scent as they lose themselves in each other and forget about the world outside of this room, this bed that they’re sharing.

“You’re beautiful,” Nesta says softly, bringing that hand to her lips and pressing a small, tender kiss there. It’s uncharacteristic of her, she thinks, to be like this—this soft person who lives for the touch of another, the sound of their steady breaths in her ear as they sleep, the way they make her feel…at peace.

She hates her past, hates her childhood, hates that she’s stuck here in Velaris, hates that her life has irrevocably altered forever _again_. She doesn’t want to be fae or have anything to do with magic. She barely wants anything to do with her family anymore. Sometimes, she thinks that there’s a storm brewing inside of her that she can barely contain, she’s so filled with anger and rage.

But here, with Morrigan, in these quiet moments that they share, on sleepy winter days when the world isn’t pressing in on them, she feels peaceful.

It’s surprising to her how peaceful she feels. How much she finds that she likes it, wants more of it.

Mor’s voice is near her ear as the fingers of her free hand trace little circles over hip. “Did you have a good night?”

The question hangs in the cold air, a warm invitation for Nesta. Did she have a good night? _Did_ she have a good night? She closes her eyes and thinks back on it, a flurry of memories come rushing back at her that make the bed seem warmer than it already is as their bodies press together.

Morrigan’s lips on her, _all_ of her. The way she sounds when Nesta pushes her back on the bed and moves between her legs. The way Mor’s hips arch when Nesta’s hands move over them. The sound of Nesta’s name on her lips. Two bodies, two souls, briefly united in a wave of ecstasy that Nesta didn’t know, didn’t _believe_ was possible.

She can’t help herself when she replies. “Who says the night is over?”

Mor grins at Nesta as Nesta turns to look back at her, brown eyes sparkling at the question. “We do have to go see Rhys and Feyre sometime, you know.” Not that she’s in any hurry to leave this bed, either. Not when Nesta’s hair is all a mess from sleep, her cheeks flushed, her face soft in a way that Nesta never shows anyone else. She’s perfectly content to stay here.

“Or,” Nesta says, a touch of mischief slipping into her voice as those steely blue eyes light up. She moves the hand she kissed back under the blanket, smoothing Mor’s open palm over her body as she lazily guides it down her breast, over the gentle curves of her stomach, toward her hips as she slowly angles her legs open. Mor’s pulse jumps just a little as her fingers find Nesta’s inner thighs, at the warm invitation waiting there.

“ _Or…_ ” Mor prompts, her voice a little breathy as she waits for Nesta to finish. She’s feeling greedy this morning. She wants to hear it from Nesta, wants Nesta to say the words that serve to ruin her and offer salvation at the exact same time.

“Or,” Nesta says gently, “we could stay in bed. Just the two of us.”

There’s always a moment when Mor feels her heart skip a beat, when she feels some kind of hope and longing deep in her chest that it really was just the two of them, that in this strange world they live in they could be like this forever. “Well,” Mor considers slowly, letting Nesta shift in her arms so that Mor can move over her, “it _is_ a really cold day.”

And it’s warm, Mor thinks, so perfectly warm in this bed.

“I guess there’s no rush to go anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are *always* appreciated as I live for external validation. And it'll put me in the holiday spirit, which means more stories. So, yeah. Happy holidays, folks. Save me from these Hallmark movies. They're on 24/7 at my house.


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